“Fuck my life. OK, I’d better go.” I hand the half-empty glass back to him. A buzz from the alcohol isn’t worth the risk tonight.
“Be careful, man,” Donovan says, “everything is so fucking weird.”
“I hear you.”
I make my way back into the crowded ballroom, meeting Jordan. She gestures dramatically with her hands. "Where were you?" Her words are slurred, and her eyes are all-pupil.
I force a smile onto my face. "Sorry, dear. I had to handle something. More champagne?" If I give her enough alcohol, maybe she’ll pass out.
A strange smile spreads across her face. "I know our engagement is difficult for you, but you’re coming around, aren’t you? Daddy said you’d definitely come on board.”
“Absolutely.”
Half an hour later, I’m holding her upright while she sways to the music. I don’t mind, it’s way better than conversation and actually gives me a moment to think.
Looking around, unease coils in my stomach.
The Elites and Conclave members are everywhere, smiling, chatting. Fuck. I wish Theodora could read my father’s mind; that’s where all the secrets lie.
Jordan leans into me. "We're going to be the most powerful couple here, Cosmo. Just you wait." I’m saved from answering by a sudden pause in the music. An amplified female voice asks for attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of Validus Vale’s president, Solita Eudoxia, and myself, I offer you warm greetings and thanks for your presence at the one hundred and eighteenth annual All Hallows Ball.”
Applause breaks out for Dean Crankshawe. “Now, please direct your attention to the stage and welcome the President of the World Magic Organization, Alistair Singleton-Smith, and the businessman revolutionizing the role of the modern witch, Tyrus Drakeward.”
“Aww, look. Our daddies.” Jordan grabs my hand and drags me closer to the stage, where Jordan's father and my own wait for every attendee to fall silent and pay attention.
It takes less than a minute.
Alistair raises a hand and smiles, a wide, practiced look that never reaches his eyes. “Good evening, esteemed members of the Elite. Tonight, we celebrate the excellence that is Validus Vale Academy. But we are also here tonight to celebrate a new era of purity and purpose.”
My father steps forward, radiating cold power.
"For too long," Tyrus Drakeward begins, his voice perfectly modulated, "the World Magic Organization has been hampered by inefficiency and dilution. That ends now. The Conclaveand the WMO are proud to announce an official, permanent partnership."
A wave of applause ripples through the Elite crowd, though I can sense a tension forming in the air.
Alistair Singleton-Smith speaks again, his voice taking on a hushed, reverent quality. "For decades, our researchers have chased a legend. Tonight, under the superior guidance of The Conclave, we have achieved the impossible." He raises his voice triumphantly. "Our scientists have found a way to resurrect Innate Magic! And what’s more, it will be granted exclusively to our most powerful Elite bloodlines."
The room erupts—not in simple applause, but in a hungry, ecstatic frenzy. Jordan is shrieking next to me.
My father holds up his hands, demanding silence again. "We will provide the magic; you provide the zeal for revolution.”
Of course. My father wants zealots.
“To demonstrate the unparalleled potential of the New Guard,” he continues, “please welcome Validus Vale’s only Elite freshman, François de Vaux.”
François strides onto the stage looking utterly composed—and dangerous.
He beckons to a passing waiter. The nervous server approaches, and François takes a canapé from the tray. He holds it out for everyone to see, then…oh fuck.
The pastry begins to twist and distort; first melting into a viscous liquid, then reforming not as bacon-wrapped dates, but as a solid, shining gold nugget.
Transmogrification, but more than that, it’s alchemy.
Turning organic matter into gold.
I stare at François, my stomach twisting.
Father smiles, savoring the shock. “Yes, gold. But François can use his innate power to produce all kinds of elements; uranium, plutonium. You name it.”
